Where The Books Are
by Qihotex
Summary: Buffy? A librarian? Stranger things have happened. A very AU tale. Who says librarians don't live lives of adventure? And what's with Willow?
1. The Librarian

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a derivative work. All BtVS characters belong to or were created by Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy. Anything from the Highlander universe that accidentally creeps in (characters, etc.) belongs to Panzer/Davis. I don't own any of it. I'm just responsible for the plot and words gluing my story together.  
**SUMMARY:** A thought experiment. What if Buffy had become a librarian instead of a slayer? How would that have worked? And where does Willow fit into this?  
**Pairings:** A B/W shipper tale - eventually - maybe - we'll have to see how it works out. No others currently planned.  
**SPOILERS:** BtVS/AtS - none really. It's too AU to spoil much. Highlander: maybe (It's set in an AU version of the Highlander universe... but it isn't really a crossover. If it does cross that line, I'll move it over to the crossovers.)  
**Word Count:** 4,035  
**Authors notes:** Feedback? Reviews? Love them. Flames? Not so much.

* * *

**Where The Books Are.**

_The Librarian_

Buffy glared down at the keyboard for the tenth time that day. Someone, may they get lost in the H's in the public library with all those annoying vampire books she thought, had spilled something crumby or sugary into it while she was out of town and hadn't bothered to clean it up. Every time she pressed a key, she winced as the crunching sound bounced off the walls in her small corner in the museum's research library.

She knew the sound wasn't really that loud but ever since the cheerleading accident in high school that had ruined her life, the accident that had shown her who her friends really were, her hearing had been extremely sensitive. Combined with a dull throbbing that had settled behind her eyes after a morning of shading them from the flickering of a dying florescent bulb, it was really bugging her today. It would have driven her screaming from the room, if she were prone to that kind of behavior.

Her doctor still claimed that, ten years after the accident, her extremely sensitive senses and her increased strength were her body's way of compensating for the damage caused to her spine by falling from the top of that pyramid into the cement bleachers. It had been amusing at first but, as far as she knew, she wasn't living in some sort of comic book and only the medicine she needed to keep the pain at bay kept her going back.

She wasn't Spiderman, Daredevil, or anyone like that. She hadn't fallen into a bucket of some secret formula to turn her into a superhero. She was just Buffy, formerly popular girl, now just another loser who lived in books because the real world didn't want her. That she was even aware of such things as comic book heroes still disturbed her to no end. She blamed her sister reading her favorite stories to her when she'd first had her accident.

Buffy scowled back at the message that filled the screen. Someone wanted to borrow one of the recently arrived books in the collection she so diligently guarded. Those books were full of some very strange things. They'd come in as part of the estate of some obscure mystic one of the museum curators had purchased at an auction. The annoying Dr. Pierson was responsible for the appearance of some of the more obscure volumes she was responsible for.

She hadn't had much of a chance to look through them herself, just barely getting them shelved in the climate controlled restricted section while they waited for the museum's archivist to determine where they belonged. She certainly wasn't ready to share them. Looking at the message, she wondered if a straightforward 'No' would work. The perkiness of the request seemed to bleed out viciously as she reread the message. She wondered how they'd even known the books were in the museum's possession.

Sometimes she really wondered what she was doing working in a library. Especially this one. And then she remembered months of lying on her back, hoping for a miracle, as her friends drifted away. Remembered discovering that she could escape into books. Books didn't judge you based on your future or possible lack of it. Books didn't stop visiting you because you made them uncomfortable. They didn't gossip about you behind your back or make fun of your devoted little sister who stuck with you through every crying fit and temper tantrum.

When she'd finally managed to finish high school, she'd looked for something, anything to do with her life that would allow her the freedom to live on her own. Something where people would accept her as a person and not some tragic figure and let her use the one thing she had left, her mind. Not a great student, no matter what the stupid SAT had claimed, she'd drifted through college, still looking for that something, her plans before her accident for a future in fashion seeming so naive and distant.

Her junior year in college she'd been forced to pick a major and focus. She'd spent so much time in the college library, struggling to keep up with all of her classes that becoming a librarian had seemed like a natural progression. Her past, as one of the in-crowd, would never intrude there. She could easily hide away. And you really didn't have to know things or be an expert in much of anything. You just had to know how to find buried or obscure information.

And somewhere along the way, she'd found a hidden talent for researching the obscure and hidden. She'd become fascinated with finding things in books. And she was good at it. What she found wasn't that important, and frankly it was often some boring, musty fact that excited only the true geeks that haunted libraries and museums. But the hunt was everything. The hunt filled some need she hadn't been aware of until then. And people who had her research skills were paid more than she would have ever expected back when she thought spending time in a library was a fate worse than death. Which had come in handy when her mother's life insurance had run out just as she finished college and she'd had to support her younger sister.

Even if her current employers had insisted that she learn at least one new language every year if she wanted to continue working for them, she was very proud of the job she did and the people she knew. Becoming a part of the small fraternity of research specialists had in some small part given her back that feeling of specialness she'd lost after her accident. And if she continued to do well there was always the possibility of a job at one of the private museum's two other branches.

She'd long ago given up any real hopes of ever having a social life that didn't involve either her sister or the museum. But she still dreamed. Buffy had fallen in love with the idea of living in Paris the year before while learning French. And when her sister graduated from college in the spring she was letting her bosses know that if they ever needed her skills in the Paris branch she was ready.

Not surprisingly, she didn't recognize the name of the person making the remote book request. If it had been one of her colleagues they would have suggested a rather elaborate trading of favors in the usual manner for some bit of information, not the whole book. If it had been one of the museum staff or someone from the nearby university they would have visited her directly. It also wasn't one of the museum's extensive cadre of field staff. They would have requested her help in researching something only they found valuable through proper channels.

Looking up at the clock, she decided to put off answering the request until morning. She needed to hurry if she wanted to pick up her sister on time for their weekly dinner. Quickly logging out and making sure everything was locked up, she grabbed her keys and purse out of her desk and wheeled herself out of her small corner towards the private elevator that would take her down to the parking garage.

* * *

Leaning against her rental car, Willow looked down at the piece of paper in her hand, looked back up at the imposing edifice in front of her, looked at the paper again and frowned. It was not anything like what she'd expected. In her experience, libraries, especially those containing obscure old books, did not reside in buildings that looked like they were some futurist's wet dream. Marble, with ornate Greek columns, maybe, or weathered Victorian mansions, but not something shaped with at least five stories of glass and steel.

She'd been searching for a copy of the book for almost a year now. Until she'd run across a mention of it in a slim volume of writings of the late eighteenth century mystic Eckhart Koertig, she'd thought its existence was just a myth. It had been over a millennium since the Watchers had found a spell that had enabled them wrest control of the slayer from the Covens, in defiance of the Goddess.

Willow had been given the task to find a way to break the Council's control and release the power of the slayer back into the service of the Goddess. She wasn't the first witch the Coven had given this task to. She was well aware that they didn't expect her to actually succeed.

It had originally been given to her as a punishment, an impossible goal to teach her humility after she'd dared to use the power given to her by the Goddess to avenge the death of her lover. But it had become something more, an obsession. She couldn't forget what she'd done but the search had given her an outlet for her grief. And now she thought she might have found something. If she could just get past the harpy who seemed intent on denying her access to the book.

The message she'd received the week before from the oddly named librarian had been blunt. The book she wanted was in the restricted section of the museum's research library, waiting to be evaluated by the head archivist. It was not expected to be available for public use any time soon. Willow could almost hear the cackles of glee coming from some chain smoking, skinny old harridan as she typed up her rather officious denial of the request. Who or what was a Buffy and why didn't they want her to have her book, she'd wondered.

So she'd packed a bag, arranged for someone to feed the cat, and taken the first flight she could find, hoping that by showing up in person she could shake the book loose from this Buffy creature. Researching the museum itself hadn't given her any insight into how to do that. It was privately owned, with its North American branch here, in a small town just north of LA, another much larger branch in Paris, and the main one in Naples. Although ostensibly open to the public, their collections, of both historical artifacts and books, seemed very eclectic.

Who really owned the museum's collections had been buried so deep and skillfully that she'd been unable to find any clues to who they were. The only consolation was that it definitely wasn't the Watcher's Council. Not only were they very unlikely to allow public access to their collection of mystical artifacts, but they were so reliant on using magic and money to protect those assets that they seemed completely oblivious to the things someone could dig up on them using computers and other modern research techniques. Something that had delighted the Coven Elders when she'd pointed it out to them years ago as a novitiate, before her life had fallen apart.

The town itself had set off all sorts of alarms in her head when she'd entered it just after noon. She wasn't sure what it was but from the moment she'd seen Sunnydale nestled between the desert and ocean she'd felt something old and faintly dark in the background. It wasn't something active but when she'd found what she'd come for she would have to remember to let the Coven know so they could research it and do something about it if necessary.

Stepping into the museum building, Willow stared in amazement at what she was seeing. More glass and steel. And floors so shiny she was glad she wasn't wearing a dress. It looked more like a small slice of corporate America than anything having to do with a museum. Looking back at the door in an attempt to make sense of it, she noticed a very hi-tech looking metal detector surrounding the doors. Surprisingly she hadn't felt anything resembling magic as she entered but otherwise their security seemed a bit heavy for a small museum.

Sitting between a bank of elevators and a set of double doors below a sign saying 'Museum' was a large receptionist desk, manned by two very professional looking young women. The kind she expected to see in a spy movie, working for the sexy, but deliciously evil, villainess. Wondering what she'd stumbled into, and if they were actually armed, Willow strolled over to them with all of the confidence she could muster.

"I'm here to see Buffy Summers." she said. "About a book."

"Is she expecting you?" the older of the two asked, picking up a phone.

"No..." Willow shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "I was passing through and I thought I would visit." It was a flimsy explanation but, expecting to be able to just sneak in, she hadn't prepared a cover story for her appearance.

"Your name. And ID." the woman asked. "Please."

"Willow Rosenberg." Willow supplied, handing over her driver's license to the woman. She watched nervously as she typed something into her computer.

"Mitzy will take you to her." the woman told her after a quick phone conversation. "Please wear this at all times." She handed Willow a 'Visitor' badge and returned her license.

"Thanks." Willow mumbled, pinning it to her jacket as she followed the other woman towards the elevator.

"She doesn't get many visitors." Mitzy said, leaning back against the wall as the elevator took them silently up to the fifth floor, giving Willow a brief glimpse of something gun-like under her jacket. "Have you known her long?"

"No." Willow kept her answer short, following her out of the elevator and down a long hallway to a closed door adorned with just a number.

"Wait here." Mitzy told her, opening the door and slipping through. Willow could hear several voices arguing about something but couldn't understand what they were saying. "She'll see you." Mitzy told her. "Have her buzz us when you're done and someone will see you out."

"Thanks." Willow said, shifting nervously.

"Don't worry." Mitzy told her, giving her a smirk. "She won't bite. Unless you ask nicely." Willow stared after her in surprise as she walked jauntily back the way they'd come, leaving Willow to enter the library on her own.

* * *

Buffy grumbled to herself in annoyance. After noticing that she seemed to ignore even the most benign invitations to socialize by the male members of the museum staff, Mitzy, the self-professed token museum lesbian, had taken it upon herself to try and find Buffy someone of a more feminine nature. No matter how much Buffy had protested that she wasn't interested in a relationship with anyone, no matter what their gender happened to be, Mitzy simply refused to let the idea go.

And now this Rosenberg woman had shown up. To see her. Giving Mitzy all sorts of ideas and ammunition. Having someone other than her sister actually care about her life outside of the office still seemed strange to Buffy. In the ten years since her accident she'd never gotten past the idea that no one could possibly want her like she was. Who wanted to love someone who couldn't dance or any of the other things she assumed couples still did? Who could love someone who based their leisure time activities upon whether there was room for their wheelchair?

She sighed and waited for the door to open. Mitzy's enthusiastic description of the 'cute redhead' who wanted to see her hadn't done much to endear Willow Rosenberg to her. She would help the woman get what she needed and then get rid of her. However long it took. Which, considering the book she claimed to be interested in was in some form of early Latin that Buffy could just barely understand, might be a while.

* * *

Willow cautiously opened the door and stepped inside the room. The faint smell of musty books, overlaid with the unique atmosphere of a climate controlled space, filled her nose. And for the first time since entering the building, she felt a faint tingling at the back of her neck that signaled she was in the presence of something supernatural. Mentally reaching out, Willow tried to detect whatever it was without disturbing it. Whatever it was, it was just there, permeating the room, unaware, almost as if it were asleep.

"Can I help you?" a soft voice asked, catching her attention.

Remembering why she was there, Willow shook her head. Dismissing the strange feeling, she headed through the stacks, towards the voice, stopping in surprise at the sight that greeted her. Seated at a large desk near a corner of the room was a small, delicate woman, possibly her own age, her long blonde hair hanging in a single braid draped over one shoulder before disappearing below the edge of the desk.

"I'm..." Willow began, speaking to the woman whom she assumed was Buffy Summers, momentarily surprised at her appearance, which didn't come close to what she'd imagined.

"Willow Rosenberg. Yes, I know." The woman looked at her intently for a moment. "You wanted to borrow a book."

"Yes. I'll bring it back as soon as I'm finished with it." Willow said hopefully, giving her a warm smile.

"No." the woman said firmly. "It doesn't leave this room."

"Why?" Willow asked, though taking in her surroundings she suspected it wasn't anything personal. It seemed to be more lab than library. The books here were obviously intended to be used. Surely borrowing one wouldn't hurt. Already thinking of the blonde by her first name, Willow wondered idly why Buffy seemed so intent on being contrary. First her reply to Willow's original request, and now in person, it was almost as if Buffy were intentionally standing in her way; an idea she dismissed quickly as Buffy continued.

"It hasn't been examined by our archivist yet." Buffy told her. "Until it is it isn't officially part of our public collection and can't be leant out."

"Can I look at it here?" Willow asked hopefully. If she couldn't take it with her it didn't really matter where she read it. It was just harder to perform some of the magical tests that would confirm its authenticity if she had an audience.

"No food near the books, and we close at six. You can use that desk. It'll take me a minute to get it." Buffy told her bluntly, pointing towards a desk in clear view of her own. Willow tried to hide her surprise as she watched Buffy push back from her desk and silently wheel herself to a large door in another part of the room, disappearing inside.

"Great." Willow muttered to herself as she arranged her small tablet PC and other items on the desk, feeling guilty for her earlier unflattering thoughts about Buffy before she'd even met her. "Let's try not to embarrass ourselves any further by apologizing for staring. You run across beautiful women in wheelchairs every day."

"Here you go." that soft voice interrupted her thoughts. "You'll need to wear these."

Turning around to see her holding out a pair of white cotton gloves similar to ones she was now wearing herself, Willow wondered why Buffy was blushing. "Thanks." she said, quickly putting them on before gently taking the book from the librarian.

Her attention focused on her prize, Willow only vaguely noticed that Buffy simply nodded in response before returning to her desk.

The book's smooth leather cover felt odd in her hands. Carefully laying it down, she silently invoked a spell to reveal any possible protective magic on the book. Anxiously holding her breath, she waited a minute for the spell to take effect, letting it out as noiselessly as possible when nothing happened. Whatever power the book held was in its words, not its substance.

* * *

The sound of a different, younger voice, almost whiney in tone, broke Willow's concentration. And for the first time that afternoon, she sat back in her chair away from the book. Glancing at her watch in surprise, she wondered what had happened to the time. Any minute now someone was sure to arrive and chase her out of the library. She wasn't even close to finished with the book. She was going to need at least a week, she thought in dismay.

A quick glance down at her tablet told her that she'd somehow managed to fill it with pages of notes and drawings without realizing it. Reaching forward, Willow gently closed the book and shut down her tablet. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Willow attempted to clear from her mind the oppressive feeling of single-mindedness that often consumed her after such intense study.

Feeling slightly more centered, she turned around in her seat and noticed a tall, statuesque brunette leaning against Buffy's desk, gazing at her curiously. Keeping her expression blank, Willow nodded in silent greeting before sliding out of her chair. Picking up the book, she walked the five meters to Buffy, laying the book silently down on her desk.

"All done?" Buffy asked her, as Willow removed the cotton gloves and placed them beside the book.

"No." Willow shrugged. "I'll need several more days. Unless you can let me take it now?"

"Still no." Buffy told her firmly. "I'll let the front desk know you'll be back. Just check in with them in the morning."

"Thanks." Willow smiled at her before returning to her desk and packing away her things. Nodding towards the two women who were watching her with eerily similar expressions, Willow slipped out of the library and headed towards the elevator. She wasn't in a great hurry but she still needed to find a hotel somewhere nearby. And dinner.

* * *

"Who was that?" her sister asked, after Willow left the library.

"She wanted to read a book." Buffy said, returning to her desk after putting the book away..

"Well... duh!" Dawn huffed. "What do you know about her?"

"Nothing. Other than she drove here when I wouldn't send her the book." Buffy said. "Why?"

"Just curious. She seems kind of young to be hanging out in a library."

"Hey!" Buffy grumbled, taking a swing at her sister. "I hang out in a library!"

"Exactly my point." Dawn smirk, dodging Buffy's hand. "Did she just wander in off the street?"

"Mitzy brought her up here." Buffy said. "They don't allow anyone in this part of the building without checking them out."

"Mitzy?" Dawn shook her head. "She would let any cute young thing with tits in. The more femme the better."

"Dawn!" Buffy gasped in mock shock. "Where did you learn to talk like that?"

"Umm..." Dawn gave her sister her best 'I'm innocent' look, Something she'd perfected years ago that Buffy liked to think she was now immune to. "All the kids talk that way now-a-days?"

"I don't think so!" Buffy frowned at her sister while grabbing her purse, sure she was trying to pull a fast one. "Do they?"

"I'll never tell." Dawn told her, laughing.

"We can always skip the movie." Buffy told her repressively.

"Buffy!" Dawn whined. "I've been waiting for weeks for this. I need my Miyazaki fix!"

"Race ya!" Buffy blurted out mischievously, putting her chair in motion before Dawn could react.

"Damn it! Buffy!" Dawn said, reaching her side as she rolled into the elevator. "You cheated."

"Moi?" Buffy batted her eyelashes at her sister. "Cheat? You accuse the girl with wheels for legs of cheating?"

"Yes'm." Dawn scowled at her smirking sister.

"What if I'd gotten another flat?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"Triple-A?" Dawn suggested with a straight face. "They cover chair flats, don't they?"

Buffy shook her head with a laugh. "Come on." She waved Dawn ahead of her into the parking garage and towards her car. "You win. For now."

"Yes!" Dawn screeched, dancing up and down excitedly like a little kid before climbing into the car, Buffy watching her with a fond smile. She really didn't know what she was going to do when Dawn finished college and inevitably moved away she thought as she went through the complicated process of getting into the car herself.

* * *

**Continued** in "_The Witch_"


	2. The Witch

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a derivative work. All BtVS characters belong to or were created by Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy. Anything from the Highlander universe that accidentally creeps in (characters, etc.) belongs to Panzer/Davis. I don't own any of it. I'm just responsible for the plot and words gluing my story together.  
**SUMMARY:** See chapter 1  
**Pairings:** No change. See chapter 1   
**SPOILERS:** See chapter 1  
**Word Count:** 4,478  
**Authors notes:** Feedback? Reviews? Love them. Flames? Not so much.

* * *

**Where The Books Are.**

_The Witch_

For two days she'd watched the redhead pouring over the ancient volume as if it were a thriller she couldn't put down. Buffy wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She'd seen visitors become absorbed in her books before but not like this. Not as if the fate of the world hinged on absorbing its contents.

She'd taken a look at the thin volume the evening before after the redhead had gone. As she'd expected, the old Latin had been heavy going but she thought she'd understood it well enough. But frankly, she couldn't see what was so special about the book for her to be so engrossed in it. Not that Willow had bothered to ask Buffy for her opinion. As far as she could tell it was just someone's memoirs and a bunch of letters between that person and someone else. There were over a dozen similar books in the museum's collection. Some even older.

Yesterday, when Willow had returned the book before going to lunch, she hadn't said a word. Maybe today was the day she would gather up her courage and ask Willow to join her in the cafeteria. So few new people came through her doors and stayed for more than a few hours that she wasn't sure how to handle a regular visitor. Especially one who was an outsider and not part of the small world that made up the museums.

She didn't think she'd been caught yet but she hadn't been able to take her eyes from her. She'd already memorized the back of Willow's head and the way her back seemed to be perfectly poised, running gracefully from her neck down, while the rest of her seemed to vibrate with some kind of restrained energy.

It was embarrassing the way her eyes would trace Willow's outline in the air but she seemed compelled to continue. Her day had turned into a perpetual round of typing, reading, and watching. And she couldn't explain it other than as an unresistable tugging feeling the led in Willow's direction.

The soft thump of a book being closed and the faint vibration of a chair being pushed back across the carpet caught her attention during one of the few moments she'd actual been able to work on her current research project. Glancing up, with as much casualness as she could muster, Buffy silently watched Willow approach her desk.

"I need to take a break." Willow said, stretching in a motion that Buffy was sure would have delighted even the most repressed of creatures. It was indescribably enticing, Buffy mused as she surreptitiously watched the woman in front of her. She wondered if it was something learned or if it just came naturally. The unexpected thought crossed her mind that being a part of that stretch might be the closest she ever came to heaven.

"The cafeteria is open to the public." Buffy suggested. "You're welcome to join me for lunch." Buffy mumbled nervously. "If you want to, that is. But you don't have to if you have other plans." She had little hope that the blush she could feel on her heated face was invisible under the harsh lights.

"That would be great." Willow said, giving her a smile. "If you don't mind the company I would love to eat lunch with you."

Buffy returned her smile and quickly releasing the brake on her chair, wheeled around her desk to join Willow. Gesturing for her to follow, she headed towards the door leading into the hallway.

"Is that a normal wheelchair?" Willow asked her as they headed down the hallway towards the public elevator. "Sorry." she apologized, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "I don't mean to be rude but that isn't what I think of when someone says wheelchair."

"Curiosity isn't rude." Buffy said, smiling slightly. "And no, it isn't a standard chair. A friend of a friend made it for me. I'm not sure you've noticed, what with the constant sitting down, but I'm not a big person."

Willow nodded. "I'd sort of suspected that you weren't. That strange light in your library distorts things a little but I don't think it would make you look larger than you are. Though I think you are just the right size. It that kind of thing matters, though it probably shouldn't."

"Darn. I've always wanted to be taller." Buffy mock pouted for a moment, while wondering if Willow had taken a single breath while blurting that out. "And hey! We have wonderful lights in the library." she said, stopping in front of the elevator. "They're perfect for reading old books, which we have a lot of. And they are better for them than sunlight," she added.

Willow mimed removing a hat and bowed extravagantly in her direction. "I bow to your superior book preservation skills." she said haughtily.

"You better," Buffy grumbled good naturedly, "if you want to ever finish reading that book."

Willow gave her a puppy-dog look that Buffy was sure she'd practiced since she was five. "You wouldn't."

Buffy was saved from her urge to say something silly, and totally out of character for the person she'd molded herself into over the past few years, by the elevator door opening. So she simply smiled in response and waved Willow into the elevator.

* * *

Willow watched in amazement as Buffy skillfully navigated the serving line and guided them to a small table against a row of windows. Looking out, Willow could see a small courtyard nestled against the building a floor below them. "Nice." she said, sitting down in a chair facing the courtyard.

"Yup." Buffy told her with obvious pride. "It's too bad we can't get there from here but this is my favorite indoor lunch spot."

"How long have you been in charge of the library here?" Willow asked curiously. There had to be something special about her companion for her to be running the museum library when she was so young. And not just the faint flashes of power that Willow had noticed leaking from her aura over the past few days that she seemed completely unaware of.

"I'm not really in charge of it." Buffy corrected her. "I'm just the research librarian. My boss, Dr. Pierson, is in charge of all of the museum's libraries. But I've been here for three years. It's a great place to work." Buffy said. "In a couple more years I'm hoping to work in the Paris office. The library there is much larger."

"Paris is wonderful this time of the year." Willow told her, thinking sadly of her last visit before Tara had died. She wasn't sure she would ever be able to go back. Even thinking about it hurt.

"I've never been," Buffy told her wistfully, "but it sounds so romantic."

"It is. But it works best if you go with someone you love. I don't think romantic and work go together well." Willow told her sagely.

"Not really a problem." Buffy said quietly. Willow watched her dig into her salad for a minute.

"Your girlfriend doesn't like to travel?" Willow asked.

"Girlfriend?" Buffy squeaked.

"That woman last night. The tall one?" Willow said. "She seemed a bit protective."

"Dawn?" She gave Willow a confused look. "She's my not so little little sister."

"Oh. Sorry about that." Willow blushed in embarrassment at the mistake.

"I don't have one." Buffy admitted.

"A boyfriend?" Willow asked, a small voice in the back of her head inexplicably chanting 'say no!' say no!'

"Not one of those either." she said, playing with her fork. "I'm too busy for that kind of thing. Relationships take more effort than I can spare right now."

"I understand." Willow said, feeling herself relax. "Work keeps me so busy my cat thinks it lives by itself." She winked at Buffy. "Really. It won't let me in the door if I don't come bearing gifts. Only the finest tuna will do."

Finding Buffy's slight smile encouraging, "You never finished telling me..." she said.

"What?"

"You were going to explain your wheelchair."

"Oh... that." Buffy shrugged. "It isn't that exciting of a story. My father was feeling guilty for the whole divorcing my mother thing. I had a physical therapist at the time with a girlfriend who designed custom wheelchairs. It cost him a fortune, but it was exactly what I wanted. We just didn't bother to tell him that Mom's insurance had already paid for a custom fitted wheelchair." She smirked. "This one is much better. It's perfect for my size, fast, light, and it folds up and fits in my car."

"Oh, and it's stylish." Buffy added with a tight grin. "If I'm going to spend my life in something with wheels, I want it to look good."

Willow nodded, unable to think of anything in response to that. She couldn't imagine such a life. "How long?" she asked curiously.

"The wheels?" She asked, answering when Willow smiled encouragingly. "Ten years going on forever."

Seeing the way her face seemed to close down after answering her question, Willow didn't press her for details.

"I need to get back." Buffy told her, grabbing her tray. "Wouldn't want the books to get lonely."

"Right." Willow said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Picking up her own tray she followed, hoping she hadn't ruined things with her question.

* * *

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked up in surprise to see Willow standing at her desk. She wondered how she'd managed that without her noticing. "Yes?"

"I have an errand to run in LA tomorrow morning. I won't be by until after lunch." she said.

"Okay." Buffy nodded, wondering why she was feeling slightly disappointed. She watched Willow for a moment, still standing there and watching her as if waiting for something more. "Yes?"

"Nothing." Willow murmured, returning to her desk.

* * *

Sitting on her bed after her evening workout and shower, Buffy stared at her closet in annoyance. Picking out what she was going to wear to work in the morning was the hardest part of her day. Selecting something to cover her feet with always reminded her that certain things, like shoes, were now merely a decoration in her life. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd worn a pair out.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked her from the door to her room.

"I think it's time to go shoe shopping." Buffy muttered in answer. "Something different for a change."

"Sandals?" Dawn suggested, sitting on the floor next to the bed. Grabbing one of Buffy's feet she started playing with her toes. "You've got great feet. Why not show them off?"

Buffy idly watched her sister. She could feel Dawn's fingers poking and prodding her feet, but she couldn't consciously move anything below her hips herself, something that frequently bothered her. She knew her legs, her knees, and her feet were there, but the connection between the part of her brain that made walking work and the nerves and the muscles in her legs that did the actual work hadn't recovered from her accident.

Her feet and legs were like her hair. Something to wash, to take care of, and decorate, but they didn't serve any useful purpose.

"Nobody looks at my feet." Buffy said, straining to wiggle at least one toe, no matter how impossible.

"Not if you hide them." Dawn grumbled.

"I work in a library." Buffy reminded her. "Cold feet are not fun."

"What about that redhead?" Dawn asked, winking at her.

"Willow? She's there for a book. She'll be finished in a couple days." Buffy told her. "And you're making a couple big assumptions."

"Like what?"

Buffy started counting out with her fingers. "One, assuming she's even gay, she might not like me. What if she can't get past the whole wheels thing? Two, I don't do relationships, especially with women. And three, even if I did relationships, my life is complicated enough already. Why would I intentionally make things even more complicated."

"Did you ask?" Dawn murmured.

Horrified at the thought, Buffy looked at her sister. "Ask her what? If she was gay? When would I do that?" Buffy shuddered at the potential for massive embarrassment. "Here's your book, Willow, and by the way, are you a lesbian?"

"Mitzy says she sets off her gaydar." Dawn mumbled.

"Is that even a real word?" Buffy wondered aloud before adding, "Mitzy says a lot of things. She thinks all women are closet lesbians and just need a little encouragement. And what are you doing hanging around her anyway? I hope it isn't at the museum, you'll get her in trouble."

"I think she's funny." Dawn protested. "And I'm not going to get her into trouble. She's in a couple of my classes."

Buffy shook her head, not sure what to say to that. She would never admit it to her sister but she found Mitzy amusing also, when she wasn't trying to play matchmaker. She returned to staring at her closet.

"I had lunch with her today." she murmured absently a few minutes later, no closer to picking out a pair of shoes.

"What did you think about her?" Dawn asked excitedly.

"She's smart." Buffy shrugged. "We didn't talk a whole lot."

"Oh..." Buffy could hear the disappointment in Dawn's voice. "Maybe next time?"

"I don't know if there will be a next time." Buffy said. "She has a life somewhere else. A cat even."

"Where's she from?"

"I didn't ask." Buffy said.

"You let some random person look at books in your library?" Dawn said, surprised. "Even the library at school doesn't do that."

"She isn't some random person," Buffy protested. "The museum checks out everyone who wants to use our facilities. She must be on file somewhere. They wouldn't have allowed her up to see me if she wasn't okay."

"Even the museum's museum?" Dawn giggled.

"Well... I don't actually know." Buffy admitted. "It's open to the public. It would be a lot of work to check everyone who walked in the door."

* * *

Sitting on her bed, Willow stared at the wall in her hotel room. She couldn't seem to concentrate. This trip wasn't turning out anything like she'd expected. And it wasn't just the librarian.

She was halfway through the book and it felt like it was leading her nowhere. She'd certainly taken a large number of notes, and it had been strangely compelling reading, but it wasn't what she'd wanted. She could think of at least one Coven Elder who would have been in heaven over it, but for her purposes it was useless.

There were no true spells, no real mention of magic, and no mention of vampires or anyone who killed them. Just observations about the training of healers and the things they could cure, and letters from the early twelfth century written by one healer to another.

How it related to slayers and why it had been referred to by that mystic was still a mystery. One that she hoped to solve in the next day or two. Somewhere in the remaining pages must be the answer she was looking for, she thought.

And tomorrow she had to go to LA. Someone had requested a sanctuary spell for some club and she was the closest person with the power and skill to do it. She was sure someone in the Coven would laugh when they heard about this one. The Wicked Red Witch of the West doing a spell that would protect people from someone like herself. If she were lucky the person at this Caritas place wouldn't have heard of her and she could go in, do the spell, and head back to her Buffy without causing even a ripple in the underground.

Her Buffy? Willow flopped back on her bed with a groan. She so did not have time to become attached to someone like this. She could just hear Tara chiding her for her presumption. She'd known Buffy for less than three days and they'd really talked only once in that time, at lunch. And in a couple days she would be gone. She could really use her advice right now, she though sadly, ignoring the fact that if Tara were around this wouldn't be an issue in the first place.

* * *

Willow frowned in the early morning light, staring at Caritas in surprise. The feeling she was getting from it wasn't exactly evil but a large number of very dark, demonic creatures had passed through the spot it occupied in the last year. It seemed to be a little late to place a sanctuary spell on it. She could see why they'd insisted she do it though. Why have one of their pure, white magic virgins be tainted by exposure to it. And there was no easy way to do the sanctuary spell in a place like this without risking it.

Taking a deep breath she murmured a quick spell to shield herself from any dark magic in the area. She hated doing it, the affect on her supernatural senses was the equivalent of stuffing cotton balls in her ears and nose, but she didn't have the time to detoxify before she had to return to Sunnydale if she accidentally absorbed more than she could safely handle, especially after her last dark magic binge.

Bracing herself and swinging her bag up on her shoulders, Willow pushed open the door and entered. Following a short hallway, she found herself in a large room. A large portion of the room was taken up by a clear space she assumed was a dance floor. Along one wall of the odd shaped room was a bar, and on the opposite wall was a stage and microphone that reminded her slightly of the karaoke bar Tara had convinced her to go to once. Booths lined the rest of the walls and tables filled any remaining space.

"Hello?" she said loudly, wincing as her voice seemed to echo in the open space. When there was no response, she walked out into the room.

The club seemed to be empty. Not surprising given the time of day but she'd been assured that she was expected. Reaching the physical center of the room, she spun slowly around, seeing several doors. Before she could walk over and knock on what felt like the most appropriate one, a door she hadn't picked opened behind her. Turning at the sound, she stared at the strange figure outlined by the door.

"Aren't you the cutest little thing." the garishly dressed creature said softly. "What brings you to my humble establishment?"

"Are you Lorne?" Willow asked as she watched it saunter towards her. "The Coven sent me."

"Hmm..." it, no... obviously he, walked around her several times, making her nervous. "Why would they send you?"

"Me?" Willow said, getting a nervous feeling in her stomach at his tone.

"Wicked Red." He said. "You're well known in some parts."

"I don't go by that anymore." she told him as firmly as she could under the circumstances. As much as she wished she could forget her short foray into the dark arts, her vengeful alter-ego had made quite an impression, even here apparently.

"I would rather you not do the sanctuary spell. They can send someone else." he said abruptly, turning around and walking way. She stared as the door closed behind him with a solid thunk.

Willow counted to ten before walking to the door. Raising a hand, she knocked only once before it was opened.

"Go away." Lorne told her, closing the door in her face.

She knocked on the door again. "Why!" she demanded.

"I don't need any spells you can do." He yelled through the door. "Tell them to send someone else."

"They won't" she yelled back. "I'm all you're gonna get!"

She jumped back when he threw the door open. "Why?" he asked.

"Hello! Demon? Pit of dark magic? Any of that ring a bell?" Willow said. "I'm the only one they have who can do the spell under these conditions."

"And you're modest, also." He said with a grimace. "What conditions?"

"This place is steeped in dark magic." she told him. "If you want anyone else from the Coven to do the Sanctuary spell you'll have to tear it down and have it cleansed first."

"Why should I trust you?" he asked.

Willow shrugged. "If you want it done any time soon you have no choice. And you need to decide quickly. I have plans for this afternoon and the rest of the month."

"Sing something." He demanded abruptly.

"What?" Willow raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Sing." He repeated.

"I don't sing." Willow said, waving a hand dismissively.

"Hum then."

She stared at him for a moment, waiting for an explanation. "What the heck." she mumbled when none was forthcoming. She started to hum a song she'd heard on the radio on the way to LA that morning.

"Good enough." he told her with a sigh half a minute later. She squeaked in surprise when he leaned forward and gave her a long hug. "Go ahead. Do it."

"Oh... Kay..." she mumbled, wondering what had changed his mind. "What did you want exactly? There are all sorts of sanctuary spells. Anti-violence, hiding from your enemies, holy ground. That sort of thing." She started walking around, trying to get a good feel for the club.

"Just something to prevent violence sweet-pea." Lorne said, watching her wander around the club. "I just want my clientele to get along and enjoy themselves while they are here. Maybe sing a song, have a drink. Without worrying about getting hurt or attacked."

"Got it." She returned to the center of the room. "Once I begin no one will be able to enter or leave until the spell is complete."

"Sure thing." He said, watching her intently.

Putting down her bag, she began pulling out the few things she needed for the spell. Taking the small brush from her pile she carefully cleaned a small circular area several meters from what she'd determined was the mystical center of the building. Once that was done she began the part she really hated about this particular kind of spell.

Turning her back on Lorne, she began removing her clothes and putting them in the spot she'd just brushed. If she could she would ask him to leave but it was his club. He had to be in the building while she did the spell itself. But she could pretend to ignore him.

Using a small piece of white chalk, she drew a pentagram around her clothes and a circle around that. She then used another piece of chalk, this time yellow, to write several symbols between the circle and pentagram. Looking at it critically for a minute, she sprinkled a handful of sea salt around the circle and whispered a prayer to the Goddess.

Grabbing the brush again, she carefully cleaned another circle, this one several meters in diameter, this time directly in the center. Taking several pieces of chalk, her small vial of salt, and several herbs, Willow began preparing a circle similar to the one surrounding her clothes. The entire process took an hour before she was completely satisfied.

Picking up the herbs, she stood in the center of her circle. Holding out her left hand, she whispered a simple fire spell. A small ball of flame appeared several inches above her hand. With her other hand, she began to sprinkle the herbs into the flame. As she did so she could feel the power building in the circle around her.

"Goddess, I beseech thee, bless your daughter in this endeavor." Willow spoke. "Protect all thy children who enter this place." A warm breath blew through her hair as if signaling agreement. Sighing in relief, Willow tossed the ball of flame high into the air where it hung for a moment before fading away, taking the power in the circle with it. "Done." she said in a stage whisper.

Stepping out of the circle, Willow once more picked up her brush. With quick, sure motions she swept up the circle into a small pile of dust. Underneath she could see that a very faint silver shadow of the symbols she'd drawn appeared to be embedded into the floor. Taking a small empty vial she swept the dust into it. Once she was satisfied she erased the circle surrounding her clothes and put them back on.

Putting everything back in her bag, Willow headed towards the nearest table. Pulling out a chair she ungracefully collapsed into it, sitting with her eyes closed, exhausted by the amount of energy it had taken to complete the spell.

"Here." she heard Lorne say, followed by the sound of a glass being placed on the table. "You look like you could use this."

"Thanks." She whispered, opening her eyes to see a large glass of something cold on the table in front of her.

"Do you do all of your spells like that?" Lorne asked.

"Sky-clad?" He nodded. "Not if I can help it. But this is one of the spells that absolutely requires it."

"And the Coven knows this?" Lorne asked her.

"Oh yeah." She grumbled. "They're very much with the teaching of humility to those of us who stray from that pesky path of potential perfection. That was my dose for the month."

"Sorry." he murmured.

"Not your fault." Willow shrugged. "It could have been worse. The last time they did that to me was when they needed a stone circle purified right before the summer solstice. They neglected to tell me it was used by the local pagan group for their solstice celebrations and that I would have an audience. I think I was still blushing a week later."

"And your clothes?" Lorne asked curiously.

"Learned that lesson the hard way." Willow told him. "When going sky-clad, protect your clothes." Sighing, she took one last sip before standing. "I have to get back."

"You're welcome to bring her the next time you come." Lorne said.

"Her?" Willow looked at him, slightly confused.

"The little blonde." Standing, he added, "I see things."

"What kinds of things?" Willow asked.

"Possibilities. She's full of them but she doesn't know that yet." He looked down at her as he escorted her to the door. "Give her time and don't run away when your past comes looking for you."

"That's a bit cryptic." Willow said. "Can you be any clearer?"

"No." He told her bluntly as they reached the exit.

Reaching her car she could see him still watching her from the door, his green face visible even in the morning shadows. Putting his words in the back of her mind, Willow climbed into her car and began the long drive back to Sunnydale.

* * *

**Continued** in _The Slayer_

* * *

**A quick note or two:** _At this point it should be very clear that this story takes place in a very alternate universe. One where Buffy never knew she was the slayer; where Dawn is real; where Willow didn't grow up in Sunnydale and she met Tara somewhere else. Several other BtVS regulars will eventually show up but they too will have lived slightly different lives. _

_The character "Mitzy" is a complete OC. Her part in this story is very minor. _

_Also, as previously mentioned this DOES take place in the Highlander universe but it too is AU - the major change being Adam/Methos was never outed to the Society of Watchers as an immortal. Which leads to all sorts of changes. None of which have any bearing on this story._


	3. The Slayer

**DISCLAIMER:** This is a derivative work. All BtVS characters belong to or were created by Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy. Anything from the Highlander universe that accidentally creeps in (characters, etc.) belongs to Panzer/Davis. I don't own any of it. I'm just responsible for the plot and words gluing my story together.  
**SUMMARY:** See chapter 1  
**Pairings:** No change. See chapter 1   
**SPOILERS:** See chapter 1  
**Authors notes:**  
1 Feedback? Reviews? Love them. Flames? Not so much.  
2 FYI: It'll be a few months until I post the next part.  
**Word Count:** 4,010

* * *

**Where The Books Are.**

_The Slayer_

Intent on examining one of the museum's new acquisitions, Buffy shivered, feeling something invisible brush against her back. It was something like, but not quite, the odd feeling she would occasionally get driving by the high school on the days she drove home alone. Looking up, she squeaked in surprise.

"Who are you?" She asked the brunette who seemed to have appeared in her corner of the library as if out of thin air and was now leaning against her desk. The woman was dressed in dark leather and denim, her leather jacket just barely covering a blood red top that revealed more than it covered. She suspected that the theme carried down to the feet she couldn't see from her side of the desk.

A faint, unidentifiable scent drifted from her. Something about it set Buffy's heart racing as the woman's dark eyes bore into her own, giving the impression that she was trying to see into her soul, searching for something only she could sense.

"What did Rosenberg want?" She demanded, her husky voice just above a whisper.

"This is a library." Buffy told her dryly, suppressing another shiver. "We have books. People read them."

"What book?" the woman asked in a tone that had Buffy bristling defensively.

"This is a 'private' library." Buffy told her with a glare. "We don't share information about our clients reading habits with random... visitors." she added, stretching the truth just a little in her best imitation of Dr. Pierson at his snarky worst.

"That doesn't concern me." The nameless woman told her. "What book was she looking at?" she asked again, leaning closer.

"I really can't tell you." Buffy said.

"Why would you want to help her?" the woman demanded, invading Buffy's personal space as she leaned so close Buffy could smell a hint of alcohol and cigarettes on her breath. "You're one of us, not one of them."

"One what?" Buffy asked, puzzled. The woman glared at her in disgust, her predator-like movements as she straightened up and stepped back setting off alarm bells in Buffy's head.

Buffy nervously shuffled papers on her desk while surreptitiously pushing the panic button built into her desk with a knee. It was the first time she'd ever used it, most of her few visitors were rather harmless academics, but she knew exactly what would happen. Museum security would use their hidden cameras to check things out and would then send someone appropriate to deal with her visitor or escort them from the building if necessary.

To Buffy's relief, the door opened several minutes later, before anything could happen. Mitzy and Tomas, one of the more frightening members of the museum security staff, stepped into the room, drawing the attention of the brunette who'd been wandering around, occasionally looking at the shelves.

"Miss Faith!" Mitzy said, addressing the brunette in a stern tone. "You're welcome to use our library like everyone else in the Council. But we need to clear it in advance."

"Yeah, right." Buffy heard this Faith person mutter. "Next time." she threw at Buffy before leaving the room, Tomas following silently behind.

"What was that about?" Buffy asked breathlessly.

"You are popular, aren't you." Mitzy told her with a smirk. "A redhead and then a brunette."

"Mitzy..." Buffy whined, blushing, knowing she would ignore any attempts to deny that she was interested in either woman. "And she wasn't here to see me, she was interested in Willow."

"Willow?" Mitzy raised an eyebrow in mock surprise before winking at her and turning to leave.

"What's going on?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know." Mitzy said, pausing at the door. "You'll have to ask your friend Willow."

Buffy frowned. "Who was that?"

"Little Miss Leather 'does things' for some old British company." Mitzy told her. "They pay to use some of our translators in the Paris office. They have their own book geeks, though no hotties like you," Buffy grimaced at the backhanded complement, "who use the museum's collection of books."

"So you know her?" Buffy asked, not completely surprised.

Mitzy shrugged, giving Buffy a faint smile. "We met the last time I worked in Paris. Life can get very interesting with her around. But she's not much for the long term thing. This is the first time I've seen her here."

"Oh." Buffy frowned, thinking about the things Faith had said. Deep in thought, she waved at Mitzy as she left the room.

* * *

Willow smiled at the receptionist as she was waved through to the elevator. Life was good. The trip to LA had gone better than expected, she was ready to make progress with the book and Buffy would be there.

"Willow?" Buffy's voice interrupted her thoughts as she carefully arranged her things on the desk in preparation for an afternoon of delving into the book. Turning around, she smiled as Buffy rolled over to her with the book in question nestled in her lap.

"Hey." She grinned as she took the book from her outstretched hand. There was something about the blonde that occasionally sent a small wave of happiness through her. She'd first noticed it at lunch the day before but she wasn't ready to analyze it. She'd had so little happiness come her way over the past few years since Tara's death and took the small things as the gifts from the Goddess that they undoubtedly were.

"There was a woman here this morning." Buffy told her. "She was sort of looking for you."

"Me?" Willow said, surprised. The Coven Elders knew she was in California but she hadn't mentioned Sunnydale to anyone else. And anyone who might have a reason to talk to her had her cell phone number. "What was her name?"

"Faith. I think. Brunette. Around your height but a little more..." She vaguely waved her hands. "Kind of goth looking. Leather and everything." Buffy said. "Not very happy with something."

"She sounds familiar but I don't think we've ever met." Willow said, recognizing the name and description. "Did she say why she was looking for me?"

"She wanted to know what you were reading."

"You didn't tell her. Did you?" Willow said faintly. She wondered what the current slayer, if that was who it was, was doing in Sunnydale and why she was curious about her reading habits. She didn't think she'd done anything to attract her attention so it couldn't be anything personal.

Only the Coven Elders had any idea of the task she'd been set. Her few friends in the Coven assumed she worked on special projects for the Elders and traveled at their whim, a belief she encouraged. And as far as she'd been able to determine, although the Coven and the Council rarely cooperated with each other, the current Council had no idea how they'd gained control of the slayer line and didn't know it could even be taken away from them. So the possibility that Faith was trying to stop her was very remote. There must have been some other reason for her interest.

"No, silly." Buffy smiled at her and Willow was once more struck with just how beautiful the woman's face was. "But she did say something odd."

"What?" Willow asked. She'd read everything she could find in the Coven's records about slayers but so much had been lost over the years. Anything she might learn, even through second hand observations, would be extremely helpful in her quest.

"She wanted to know why I was helping one of 'them'" She looked puzzled. "I think she meant you."

"Her people and my people don't really get along. We have similar goals but very different methods. They're really into direct interaction, violence, that kind of thing. We prefer a more subtle approach." Willow told her quickly, intentionally being as vague as possible. "What else did she say?"

"She said I was one of hers." Buffy looked at her curiously. "What do you think she meant? I don't wear leather and I don't do the 'in your face' thing she was doing. She was kind of scary." She frowned. "I don't think I have anything in common with her."

Willow looked at her speculatively. She wondered if Faith knew something about Buffy that she didn't. She was too old to still be a proto or potential slayer, and a slayer in a wheelchair wouldn't have survived long if there were any truth to the legends that they were mystical lightning rods. It was possible she was a proto-slayer the Council had somehow missed. It was an interesting idea, she thought.

Potential slayers who'd never become slayers were a rare commodity outside of the Council. Even after they lost whatever quality made them potential slayers, the Council tried to keep them in its grasp their entire lives, treating them like precious stones, locked away from the sight of ordinary mortals.

"Hmm..." Willow decided it would be foolish to say anything before she'd had a chance to do some research. And that would have to wait until after she was done with the book. "From the little I've heard about her... and what I know about the people she works for... I really don't know what she meant. We'll have to ask her if she comes back." She didn't think it would hurt her own plans to ask the slayer what she'd meant -- assuming she returned, though she didn't expect an answer. She just hoped she survived the encounter. This slayer was well known in the underground for her short and violent temper.

* * *

Being encouraged to leave the museum before her questions had been answered had done little to improve Faith's mood. She'd woken up ready to tear the world a new one and could still feel the anger just out of reach. What she needed was a good fight, but the chances of finding something to take the edge off in Sunnydale, unless the sleeping Hellmouth opened, weren't good. And she didn't do second times so the guard she'd recognized at the museum wasn't a memory she needed to relive.

"Faith." she growled into the phone, ignoring the looks she was getting from the other patrons in the coffee shop.

"What did you do?" the annoyed voice of her watcher asked.

"Nothing." she said. Scaring a librarian was all in a days work.

"That isn't what Travers said."

"He's a twit." Faith grumbled.

"What are you doing in Sunnydale?"

"Checking out the Hellmouth?" She mumbled.

"It's been dormant for over fifty years." the voice in her ear reminded her. "If it was going to open up there would have been signs already."

"Gwen..." Faith said, trying to keep her voice from sounding childish.

"Don't 'Gwen' me, Faith. I just spent the last ten minutes being chewed out for not controlling my slayer."

"I wasn't doing anything." Faith said defensively. She knew she was given a lot more freedom by her watcher than the Council expected. But in exchange, she was expected to keep her nose clean. "Just checking out a library book."

"You know they don't like surprise visitors." Gwen chastised her. "We need them more than they need us. Don't antagonize them."

"Then how'd Rosenberg get in?" Faith muttered. "I'm sure she didn't get an invitation."

"Rosenberg? You were told to drop it. She isn't our concern."

"I know. Blah, blah, blah, we stay out of the Coven's business. Blah."

"Yes. We don't need that kind of attention."

"You mean you don't need that kind of attention. You know the Coven isn't going to be interested in whatever scheme you have going, Gwen. And Travers is clueless."

"That isn't the point." her Watcher said. "Effective slayers don't advertise their presence to all and sundry."

"All and sundry?" Faith choked on her coffee. "What watcher geek are you hanging out with this week? Should I be calling a certain geek in the British Museum the next time I need to talk with you?"

"No. And it's called having friends." Gwen told her. "You should try it some time."

"And go against centuries of Council tradition?" Faith said with a laugh. "We wouldn't want that."

"Just stay out of trouble, Faith." her Watcher admonished. "Next month's Council retreat will be exceedingly boring if you aren't alive to be there."

"Yes, Auntie Gwen. I'll be there." She grumbled. Her watcher tended to treat her like a wayward child but they understood each other. "Can you check something for me?"

"What?"

"The librarian chick at the museum, Buffy Summers. She's either clueless or she was protecting the witch for some reason." Faith said. "I want to know who she really is."

"That isn't going to be easy." Gwen said. "I'll need somewhere to start."

"Have whatever watcher flunky is following you around this week make himself useful and start with the list of potential slayers five years before I was called."

"You think the Council missed her?" Faith could almost see the wheels turning in Gwen's head.

"Maybe. Or they dumped her. She's in a wheelchair."

"Travers isn't usually that nice. Potential slayers injured badly enough to need wheelchairs..." Gwen said, her tone reminding Faith of what had happened to her predecessor. "...if she'd become a slayer she would have been helpless. She wouldn't last long against the demons that are attracted to slayers." she mused.

"Maybe the Coven protected her." Faith suggested. "I don't really care. I just want to know who she is." she repeated.

* * *

Faith threw her boots across her hotel room. The sleeping Hellmouth had been a dud. Sneaking into the local high school to take a look at it hadn't been remotely challenging. Sunnydale itself had been too quiet for her taste. She'd sensed only the vaguest signs of anything demonic. If Rosenberg hadn't been in town she would have already been headed to the nearest airport on her way towards one of the usual demon hotspots.

The only interesting sight had been the tall brunette she'd caught a glimpse of at a table just as she was leaving the coffee shop. Unfortunately, she'd outgrown her clean-cut preppy stage years ago. Even short term they were too high maintenance for her taste.

She was just about to call for room service, one of the few perks she allowed herself when traveling for the Council, when her phone started ringing. As always, she had to suppress a laugh as she answered it. Even after several years with Gwen as her watcher, the 'Wicked Witch is dead' ring tone still cracked her up.

"Interesting little tidbit." Gwen told her without even a hello. "Guess who works for the Council?"

Faith sighed. Her watcher could be a royal pain some times. She loved politics and intrigue, things Faith couldn't care less about. "Who Gwen..."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic." Gwen told her drily.

"I'm a bubbling fount of seething interest." Faith said sarcastically.

"Your Buffy Summers' doctor."

"And..." Faith prodded.

"That's all I have. Her file was mostly empty."

"But she has a file? So she's at least a potential slayer then." Faith said. "How did you know her doctor works for the Council?"

"I asked the Archivist where the contents of her file was." Faith could hear a certain smugness in her voice. "He said it was in Travers' office in his personal safe."

"How did you find out about her doctor if her file was locked up?"

"Libraries like to cross-reference things." Gwen told her. "Her non-existent file,"

"The one hidden away in his mightiness's office?" Faith asked.

"Yes, that one." Gwen acknowledged. Faith smirked. She could almost hear Gwen grinding her teeth at the interruption. "Her file references another file for a doctor in LA who happens to be on the Council payroll."

"This is all on paper, isn't it." Faith grumbled. "So you can't send it to me."

"Correct." Gwen said. "However... this also means your little friend Rosenberg can't hack into it and find certain things out."

"That is good, isn't it. She must be going nuts about the things I said to Summers." Faith grinned to herself.

"Just what did you say to her?" Gwen asked, annoyance clear in her voice.

"Nothing really." Faith grimaced at Gwen's biting tone. "Just implied a few things. If Summers likes Rosenberg... things could get interesting."

"Likes her? Not all potential slayers have your tendencies." Gwen said.

"No..." Faith laughed hollowly. She wasn't going to deny that she had been verging on some seriously twisted behavior when the Council had swooped down and taken her from her family or that she was the furthest from the Council's image of the virginal warrior maiden of any slayer in centuries - Gwen had seen her therapist's files after all - but going down in Council history as the 'slutty slayer' was not something she was really proud of. "But take it from an expert on the sex lives of slayers. Rosenberg is going to be confused by Summer's behavior."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Nothing for you to worry about." Faith told her. "I think I might just hang out here for a few weeks and watch the fireworks." This would be much better than what she'd originally planned for Rosenberg.

"Faith! What do you mean?" Gwen whined.

It wasn't often that Faith knew something her Watcher didn't. She laughed before disconnecting her phone and grabbing the room service menu.

* * *

Dawn skipped up to the museum door, her eyes catching sight of a woman lounging in the sun on a bench in the small courtyard. There was something exotic about her, though she couldn't quite decide what it was. It wasn't the leather, or the wild mane of hair, or even the slightly goth looking make-up. Shrugging, she entered the building and headed towards the reception desk.

"Hey Mitzy!" She beamed at the young woman, as always amazed at how professional she looked compared to her usual appearance in class.

"Hey Dawn." She smiled. "Here to take Buffy to lunch?"

"Yup! Class got out early."

"You might have to fight for her today." Mitzy smirked at some private joke.

"Why?"

"She's become very popular."

"She told me about going to lunch with Willow." Dawn said, nodding.

"Did she mention her other admirer?"

"Nope. Who?" Dawn asked. "You didn't ask her out did you?"

"Nah. You know it's against museum policy for the security staff to mingle with everyone else." Mitzy pouted. "I can't even ask her out for coffee."

"That sucks. I think she could so go for you." Dawn winked. "If she wasn't too busy pretending she doesn't need a relationship she might be open to the idea."

"We both know better." Mitzy said.

"Yup." Dawn agreed. "So who?"

Mitzy pointed towards the door. Turning around, Dawn could see she was pointed at the woman she'd seen on her way in. "Who's she?"

"That would be Miss Faith." Mitzy told her. "She works for one of the museum's regular clients. I believe they compete with Willow's organization."

"And you think they'll both go after my sister?" Dawn asked.

"Maybe. I'm not sure I would wish Faith on someone like your sister for her first experience with the better sex." Mitzy frowned. "Faith is quite the ride. But a little rough around the edges."

"So you've taken her out for a spin?" Dawn smirked.

"Oh yeah!" Mitzy growled. "Not someone to forget. Too bad she doesn't do repeats."

Dawn giggled. "I'll talk with you later." Turning towards the elevators she left Mitzy deep in thought. Or at least as close to it as she ever came, Dawn thought.

* * *

Trying to open the door quietly so her sister wouldn't hear her, an almost impossible task, Dawn peaked into the library. Walking towards Buffy's desk she breathed as carefully as possible, congratulating herself when she noticed that her sister seemed to be absorbed in watching Willow.

"Hey Buffy!" She said loudly, trying not to laugh at her surprise. "Ready for lunch?"

"Yeah. Sure." Buffy mumbled, turning red at Dawn's raised eyebrow.

Not one to avoid an opportunity for mischief, Dawn said "Don't sound so excited. If you would rather go to lunch with Willow or Faith let me know. I'm sure I can find someone or something to keep myself occupied."

"Don't get Mitzy in trouble!" Buffy warned her.

"I don't have any plans for her that she wouldn't agree to herself." Dawn told her with an exaggerated leer.

"Definitely not!" Buffy protested. "I'm taking you to lunch before you get her fired. Just give me a second to put things away."

"Geeze Buffy, I was just kidding." Dawn pouted.

"Faith?" Willow asked, pausing as she was about to hand a book to Buffy.

"Brunette? Serious male eye candy? She's down by the main entrance." Dawn told her. "I think she's waiting for someone." Dawn watched in surprise as Willow rushed to her carrell and quickly packed up her bags.

"Buffy, I'll see you this afternoon." Willow said. "I need to speak with her about something."

"You're welcome to join us afterward." Dawn said. "We're just going down the street to Bob's Diner. We'll save you a spot. Right Buffy?"

"Sure." Dawn noticed her sister faintly blushing.

"Maybe." Willow said. "I really need to catch her."

They watched her hurrying out of the library, almost running. "Do they get along?" Dawn asked. "Mitzy says they're competitors of some sort."

"I don't know. I don't believe they actually know each other." Buffy frowned. "I hope she doesn't get hurt. Faith looks very tough."

"So which do you prefer?" Dawn asked, winking at Buffy.

"Dawn..."

"Well?" Dawn prodded. She wasn't as sure as Mitzy was that her sister was just in denial but she had no problems helping her figure it out.

"Faith seems too butch." Buffy said. "But why would I want either of them?"

Dawn shrugged. "I'm not the one you need to convince either way." She squeezed Buffy's shoulder. "Let's get going. Bob said he would save your favorite table."

* * *

Quickly reaching the lobby, Willow rushed outside, muttering a quick protection spell. It probably wouldn't help much if the Slayer objected to her presence but it was better than nothing.

Looking around she saw only one person, a woman dressed in leather who seemed to be sunning herself. Carefully approaching her, Willow stopped a yard away. Not really far enough away to escape a slayer but close enough to carry on a cautious conversation.

"You were looking for me?" She asked. As the woman's attention focused on her she could feel a faint swirl of magical energy reaching out briefly in her direction before it collapsed back around the woman.

"Yes." Faith pulled a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket and lit one up.

"Why?" She scrunched up her nose at the smoke Faith blew in her direction.

"The Council says you are off limits if your Coven says you've reformed." Faith told her. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to forget what you did. You crossed a line you shouldn't have and I don't really trust you, Rosenberg. I plan to keep a close eye on you."

"But, but..." Willow stammered, her mind already churning through the ramifications of trying to accomplish her task with a Council watchdog constantly at her heels even as her ever present guilt enveloped her. "There were reasons." she protested.

"Doesn't matter." Faith told her dismissively. "Don't care. If it happens again, I'll be there. And I'll stop you. Personally."

Not willing to say anything in her own defense, Willow gave her an anguished look. Her shoulders slumping she turned towards the road, where she could see Buffy and her sister watching curiously down the street, hopefully too far away to have heard anything.

"Rosenberg!" Faith called to her.

"Yes?" She stopped but didn't both turning around.

"Summers is now under my protection. If you hurt her -- In any way at all -- You'll answer to me. Got it?"

Willow nodded, whispering quietly "Yes." Taking a deep breath, she headed towards the waiting women.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

* * *


End file.
